


Can you hear me?

by PrintDust



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-01
Updated: 2014-08-01
Packaged: 2018-02-11 07:24:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2059161
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrintDust/pseuds/PrintDust





	Can you hear me?

Carl could hear his mom and Carol chatting on the other side of the tent. He looked over his shoulder to see them both elbow deep in buckets of water as they scrubbed clothes. Carl had opted to watch the fire again, anything to get out of helping with the laundry. It was so boring listening to his mom and Carol talk about boring stuff like cooking and what things were like before the Geeks came. Sometimes his mom got sad when she talked about it, 'cause she would talk about his dad and Carl didn't like to think about it or it would make him sad too.

Using a long stick he jabbed at one of the logs in the fire pit and nudged it over until sparks flew up. If his mom was paying attention she would nag at him to stop playing with the fire. He shrugged, she was always tellin' him not to do stuff. It was boring when he wasn't allowed to do anything cool. He looked over at one of the men who was living in the camp: Daryl.

Daryl was crabby but really cool, Carl decided. He knew how to use a bow-and-arrow thing, and he could hunt and always brought back meat for the camp. And he made a hammock out of a net one time, like he wasn't even scared of the Geeks. Carl wanted to be like Daryl, he decided, and learn how to shoot a gun and sleep outside and hunt. If his mom would just let him do anything by himself ever.

If his dad was there…

Carl looked back down at the fire, ignoring the thought. His dad was dead, and Shane said that they needed to move on and focus on surviving. Except, he didn't like to think that his dad was really never gonna come back. He looked at Shane who was setting up a radio not far from the fire pit. Carl got to his feet and tossed his poking stick onto the ground. He approached Shane, brushing dirt and leaves off his pants. "What are you doing?" He asked kneeling down beside the radio to see.

"This here is a C.B. Radio," Shane said adjusting a silver antennae. "It means Citizens Band…"

Carl reached forward to turn one of the dials. He jumped and pulled his hand away when the radio squealed. He looked up at Shane who laughed and clapped him on the back. Carl relaxed, laughing a little too. "Why do we need it?"

"In case someone else has a radio, so we can tell them where we are," Shane explained fiddling with a knob that was labeled Squelch. "You see," he explained, picking up a mouthpiece that was attached to a long spiral cord. "You press this button to speak," he demonstrated, silencing the dead air sound. "And then you release it to listen." 

"I don't hear anyone," Carl said, shaking his head. He trained his ear to the constant rushing sound to see if he could pick out even a faint voice.

"That's 'cause it's a piece of-," Shane cut himself off and flicked a switch, turning off the C.B. "dung," he finally finished. "Now you get back to your chores before your mama has to ride you," he ordered.

Carl sighed and nodded, disappointed that they couldn't talk to anyone on the radio. He turned around and started back towards the fire. He stopped a few feet shy of the pit and turned back to Shane, "How far can it reach?"

Shane shrugged. "Depends. One time I got a guy all the way in California. But most of the time it's pretty short range. Few miles or so."

Carl dropped his chin and picked up his fire stick again. He sat down heavily on a chair and poked at the embers.

XXXX

It was pitch black in the tent as Carl waited for his mom to go to sleep. She hadn't moved for a while, so when he was pretty sure she wasn't awake he crawled out of his sleeping bag and felt his way towards the tent door. He opened the zipper real slow so as he wouldn't make too much noise. When there was just enough space for him to fit he squeezed out and froze, his eyes searching the dark for any movement. It seemed like everyone had gone to sleep except Dale who was sitting on top of the Winnebago.

He imagined he was like Daryl on a hunt, and he kept his body real low to the ground. His feet kept snagging on twigs and things and he crossed his fingers that Dale wouldn't hear him. Carl creeped around the trailer and glanced in the direction of Daryl's hammock to make sure that he was sleeping. Merle seemed to be passed out too, next to his motorcycle, a bottle of something resting in his lap. Carl didn't like Merle at all. His mom didn't seem to either… in fact, most people in the camp didn't like him.

Using his best stealth moves Carl avoided the glow of the fire and snuck around to the other side of the tree stump where Shane had left the C.B. Radio. Carefully he turned the volume way down and then turned the radio on. It crackled a little and he held his breath. His eyes darted around the camp. Dale hadn't even looked over in his direction so he picked up the hand-piece.

Using his thumb he pressed the button like Shane had showed him and took a deep breath. "Dad?" he whispered, licking his lips. "If you can hear me… it's Carl." He waited, his ear pressed up against the speaker. He didn't hear anything except the constant static, so he pressed the button again. "If you can hear me, Dad, please find us…" he thought he knew what he wanted to say, but now he wasn't sure. The sound of someone turning over in their tent startled him and he knew he was out of time. "Mom misses you," he said quickly then turned off the radio to go back to bed.

Maybe he would try again tomorrow.


End file.
